


Day Off

by SapphireInTheSky



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireInTheSky/pseuds/SapphireInTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha huffed in irritation. “Seriously, it’s not that-"....“Big of a deal?” Clint finished, “It’s a HUGE deal!” Natasha gave up at this point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some swearing and a lot of barely contained humour.

The radio blared, the engine revved, the assassin growled.

It was going to be one hell of a good day as far as Clint was concerned. With his foot on the gas, the archer sped down main street, speeding between cars and crawling past coppers.

_Screw SHIELD. No one was going to mess it up this time._

Not Steve.

Not Tony.

Not Bruce.

And certainly not Hill…or Fury for that matter.

There would be no last minute assignments, no stack of paperwork, no science advice and definitely no test subject-ing. Today was his day out with Nat to just chill.

Catch up on life and all that bullshit.

But it was his bullshit. And he was going to enjoy it.

Clint flipped open his phone and scrolled down to his favourite partner. Scratch that. His _only_ partner…or at least the only one who tolerated him as much as he did her.

It wasn’t hard to find her. There were only 3 people in his phone after all.

First was SHIELD (aka Fury), then Nat then Coulson. Because why list things alphabetically when you can not?

He selected her number and placed the phone by his ear, listening to the dial tone.

After the fifth ring, a husky voice buzzed into his ear.

“What’s wrong?”

Clint’s face scrunched up into the perfect, “excuse you” face. He quickly sped through an amber light and dodged a slow Buick.

“What? Nothing’s wrong, Nat” he drawled.

“Then why are you calling me?”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Uh, because it’s our day off…”

The unspoken ‘duh’ hung over his words like a thick fog.

She wasn’t buying it.

_“Our?”_ Natasha reiterated. Apparently, she didn’t seem happy by his proposition.

“Yeah, remember? I said we should hang out some time…” Clint droned.

“And that ‘some time’ has to be right now?” Natasha moaned.

Clint carefully sped around a pack of cyclists, smirking as one of them raised their fists at his tail lights.

“Don’t tell me you’re busy” Clint groaned.

“Well-”

Clint punched the horn with the palm of his hand, scaring the motorist in front. He angrily scooted around them and sped onward; his mind still focused on the sabotage his partner in crime had committed.

“On the ONE day we happen to be off together-“ Clint spewed.

Natasha tried to interrupt. “Barton-“

It was pointless. The rant had begun.

“-And you decided to be busy!”

A horn blared, a pedestrian cursed. Clint flipped them off casually.

Natasha huffed in irritation. “Seriously, it’s not that-“

“Big of a deal?” Clint finished, “It’s a HUGE deal!”

Natasha gave up at this point.

The archer went on regardless. Now she would bare witness to his agony. And endure the punishment.

“I saved up _so_ _many_ episodes of FRIENDS for this occasion. I held onto half-price pizza coupons! I even cleaned up the apartment a smidge. But nah, you’re busy. It's cool”

Natasha snarled a Russian curse, “You don have to be such a-“

Clint cut her off. Of course he did.

“Actually, you know what?”

Natasha was really not buying it this time. If anything, she was selling it.

“Goodbye Barton”

Again, he interrupted that.

“No! Really, you know what?”

There was a loud sigh on the other end of the line followed by a long silence. Clint used the time to race a few blocks ahead, taking a few lefts and rights as the time ticked on and he drew closer to his destination.

“…..What?”

“I’m coming to you” Clint declared.

“What?” Natasha dead-panned.

“You heard me. Whatever you’re ‘busy’ doing, I’m in on it” Clint vowed, bottom lip jutting out defiantly.

“Ha. Yeah right, Barton” the widow scoffed.

Clint shook his head, wagging his index finger at the broken arrow dangling from the rear view mirror.

“Nope, no excuses, Nat. If _you_ can’t spend time with me, _I_ will spend time with you. Partners ’ve gotta stay close”

Nat squawked an indignant protest.

“You owe me that much, red” Clint reminded.

A growl akin to Lucifer’s pet dog crackled across the line.

“ _Fine_ ” Natasha replied icily.

“Okay. Great” Clint concluded cheerily.

“Don’t complain to me when-“ Natasha warned.

She really should have seen the interruption coming this time.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just tell me where you’re at and I’ll swing by” Clint smiled, spinning his wheels around another narrow back street.

The rest was history in the making.

* * *

 

“21….22….23…where the hell is she?!” Clint grumbled, glancing at his watch as he paced up and down.

Natasha had brought him to a small little building on the outskirts of New York. Every surface had been painted in an earthy green colour with complimentary tones of warm browns and golden yellows.

There were pictures of nature littering the walls and mom magazines sprawled _neatly_ across a center table -in what he could only assume was the official, unofficial waiting room/office.

He felt oddly out of place. _Assassins wouldn’t be caught dead here -or alive for that matter._

Unless it was their day off…apparently.

_Nat must be sick or something. Perhaps this was a cruel joke for pissing her off and eating the last slice of pizza at Fury’s meeting._

Who knew what went on in that head of hers. ‘Partners’ didn’t mean he was suddenly a mind reader.

“BARTON”

Clint almost jumped out of his skin; whirling around to face the antagonist in a martial arts pose, ready to strike.

Natasha appeared severely unimpressed, raising only an eyebrow at his classic mistake.

“Jeez, Nat. You try’na kill me or somethin’?” Clint accused, lowering his arms and placing a dramatic hand over his heart.

Natasha rolled her eyes and began leading the way down the hall, “Please…I tried that ages ago”

Before Clint could retort, Natasha opened a soil coloured door and shoved him in- to a room full of pregnant women sprawled out comfortably on yoga mats.

All eyeing him curiously.

Clint froze in the doorway, his face heating up to the temperature of the sun, “Uh…somethin’ you wanna tell me, Nat?”

He eyed the widow keenly, his worried gaze obvious.

Natasha merely smirked, relishing his ‘trapped squirrel’ vibes as she took a seat by a familiar looking woman.

“Nope. Now sit down, you’re interrupting the class” Natasha directed firmly.

Clint remained by the safety exit…or the door…whatever you want to call it.

“Nah…I don’t wanna intrude” he began to lean outward.

“Barton. Sit. NOW”

Clint swiftly entered the room and sat by the first mat on his right, swivelling to face forward and not at the women staring at him.

The teacher; a petite, 50’s-something, Hispanic woman- smiled down at her newest and only male guest.  Clint wasn’t sure whether the twinkle in her eyes suggested happiness or hunger.

_This day off was turning out to be a not so good day,_ Clint frowned.

“Now, as I was saying, ladies-“

Clint tuned out after that, choosing to take off his shoes and lay them aside like all the other good little girls...and well, more girls. Ladies rather.

He studied his laces for what seemed like an eternity.

_There was no point in listening. He wasn’t going to give birth_ any time _soon, or later, or ever._

_Why was Nat even here? That was the real mystery..._

Clint risked a glance over at his partner. Her focus flipped between the teacher and the woman sitting closely on her left.

She seemed familiar.

Clint racked his memory for a similar face, almost slapping himself when he stumbled across her name.

Rachel Westenbrink. Late-twenties. Worked for SHIELD. Friend of Hill’s. Oversaw one of his post-operative mission debriefings. Hooked up with a guy named Stan. Gave the office doughnuts because she was an awesome human being. Took a leave of absence…

_Well, this explained the absence. And the lack of doughnuts._

“So, if you could all gather into groups of two-“

_Wait. WHAT?_

Clint swallowed nervously as the room of women around him began to separate into partners. Naturally, he sought out the eye contact of his one true partner. The angry, red-haired, kick ass, Russian assassin.

But nope, her eyes were locked onto Rachel.

He was sure that she knew he was watching her. Pleading for assistance.

_This is what you get for vowing to hang out._

A delicate finger suddenly landed on Clint’s shoulder, forcing the archer around to face a plump, freckle-faced pregnant lady with an expectant smile.

“I guess we’re the last two to pair up, kiddo” she giggled.

Clint bit down on a curse and dug his nails into the yoga mat. He offered a toothy grin and a silent nod.

A pain like no other was beginning to gnaw away at his soul.

_Are you happy now, Romanov?_ he cursed.

The woman took his hands unexpectedly, forcing his attention back to her.

“I suppose you’re new at this?” she confided, leaning forward with a wink as she crossed her legs.

Clint assumed a like-wise position. All of the women were doing the same; facing inwards and holding hands at the center.

_Jeez, this was so-_

“Um, yeah. I’ve never been pregnant” Clint answered dumbly.

The woman scrunched her nose as she snorted a laugh. Clint forced himself to reciprocate. If this woman was any sweeter, he’d probably own 9 sweaters before he left.

“Well there’s always a first time for everything Mr…?” the woman trailed.

“Oh, uhm, uh…. Mr…..Horton” Clint scrambled, recalling a Dr Zeuss poem from god knows when.

The woman lifted an eyebrow then burst out into laughter. A few of the closer pregnant ladies offered a curious gaze.

_Oh god, please just shoot me now,_ Clint begged.

“Are ya here to hear a who?” the woman joked.

“Hear what now?” Clint struggled.

The woman snickered and pushed his arm playfully, “I’m just funning ya, son. Let’s get down to business shall we?”

The pit of Clint’s stomach began to recede into a bottomless chasm.

“Business?”

“Weren't you listening?” the woman inquired, “We’re going to practise labour readiness today. One always has to be prepared don't you know?”

A torn expression of frightened and nope crossed Clint’s face; his eyebrows shooting towards his hairline as a broken smile tugged at his lips. He nodded vigorously, unsure of what to say.

“Okay-“  the woman proceeded. A few of the women round about began to make uncomfortable moaning noises, simulating labour.

_It was like being stuck in a mosh pit with a bunch of sluggish seals. All that was missing was the slippery rocks on which to impale one-self and end the suffering._

“So I’ll be the pregnant lady and you be the father to be? Got it? Good” the woman abruptly concluded, leaning suddenly into his lap and clawing at his plaid shirt.

“Argh! The pain! It’s killing meeee!” she screeched, tearing at his buttons.

Wide-eyed and scared for his life, Clint instinctively leaned back with his arms wide apart, clearly not wanting to touch anything that was going on in his lap.

That didn’t stop the woman from pursuing her grammy nomination.

Her hands tore up his shirt, closer to his face…those purple shiny nails actually carving a small slice out of the underside of his chin.

Never in his life had he frozen on the battle field. Never had be been in such a state of shock or pain that he hadn’t been able to continue.

Well…the Lamaze class had finally done both.

“Uh, shhh, please, it’s okay, uh…” Clint soothed, propping one arm back to support their weight while petting the woman’s bouncy hair.

“Ooohhh….arghhhh….the contractions! Ughhhhh….i feel like a stuck pig receiving a new corn hole” the woman moaned, crawling further into Clint’s lap until they both tumbled backwards.

“There there….uhm….it’s okay-“ Clint attempted, still petting the woman’s head as if it would help somehow.

He scanned the horizon for any possible back up, finally finding the green eyes he had been searching for. They were waiting for contact, shining with amusement.

Mouthing the words, “Help me, or I will hurt you” Clint motioned for his partner to save him from his soon-to-be-destruction…or the pregnant ladies demise.

Obligingly, Natasha offered a short explanation to Rachel and stood -ever so slowly- before calmly walking over to his personal corner of hell.

As she neared the horrific display, Clint’s partner stared up at the shadowy intrusion.

“Oh, hi Sarah. I was just teaching Mr Horton how to deal with labour” the woman listed, suddenly free of her once, _very believable_ , labour pains.

Clint’s gaze locked onto Nat.

_Sarah? Really?_

Nat didn’t seem fazed, “So… _Mr Horton_ ….it’s nice to see a man finally taking responsibility and participating in what some might deem as the downfall of women”

Clint held back a protest, knowing it would be unwise to do so. She was obviously leading his answer in that previous statement; best just give her the victory she wants.

“Well us men sure do have a lot to answer for" Clint 'admitted', "-So I figured I would take my day off to witness, in awe, the pure strength that women possess...thus allowing for self-betterment and perhaps earning the right to be called a true man again” Clint bullshitted, left eye almost twitching.

He was going to need to visit SHILED’s shooting range after this.

Natasha delivered a sinister smile, though to everyone else, it probably appeared genuine.

“How lovely of you to dedicate yourself to such a noble cause, Mr Horton” Natasha noted sweetly.

_There was that stupid name again._

_She was clearly never going to let him live this down. She hadn’t even blinked yet…that sunny smile was beginning to bore into his soul…not to mention that the pregnant lady was still sat on his ribs (and she hadn’t been_ light _to begin with)._

“Oh, no problem. It’s my pleasure” Clint wheezed pathetically.

The woman pinched his cheek, a broad smile of pure joy resting across her cheeks, “Oh, he’s such a darling, isn’t he?”

Natasha pursed her lips into a tight smile. Here came trouble.

“Indeed he is. Such a _darling_ ”

Clint was beginning to feel that the word 'darling' might have a different definition in his partner’s dictionary.

“Um so anyways…you were about to say, Sarah?” Clint begged.

Natasha waited a moment more before relenting.

“Oh yes, almost forgot. My pager went off a minute ago. It’s your wife…said she couldn’t reach you on your phone. It must be off” Natasha lied casually.

Taking the bait faster than a suicidal fish on steroids, Clint nodded and rapidly untangled himself from his pregnant ‘friend.’

Feigning worry, Clint pretended to search his person for the phone; eventually sliding it out of his pocket and swiping his fingers continuously down on all the not-really-there-missed-alerts.

“Oh my, she is going to kill me” Clint grimaced, looking down to his friend. “I’m real sorry about this but I’ve got to dash... Duty calls!”

The lady seemed a little put out but sadly accepted his excuse, drawing back to her own feet and offering a small wave. He could feel Nat grilling him from afar.

“Feel free to swing by again!” the lady encouraged, “It was great meeting you!”

Clint hastily sped towards the door, offering a single thumbs up of acknowledgement before he was gone for good.

_No way was he gonna tell her he was coming back. He had enough sins on his soul without having to lie to an innocent, pregnant lady too._

What was important was that he had survived.

But he wasn’t out yet.

Clint sped towards the exit, feet practically squealing across the polished tile floors.

There was no way in hell was he ever going to interrupt Nat’s day off again.

No way was he ever entering that room again.

No way-

Suddenly, Clint's phone rang.

The archer hoisted it to his ear, eager to receive any mission to anywhere for any length of time. As long as it cleansed his mind of this traumatic experience-

"Hey, bird-brain"

_Oh great, it was Nat...wonder what words of wisdom she holds this time._

_"What?"_ Clint hissed.

"You forgot your shoes..."

 

 

 


End file.
